Page 16 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
ed up from Denver. He’s sophisticated and a real gentleman. Anyway, I ran into him earlier this week and thought you two might hit it off.”
“What’s his name?” Gigi asked.
“Warren Adams.”
“I know him,” Emmeline said. “That’s the guy that bought my old house.”
“Yep.” Felicity nodded. “Help me convince her that he’s a good pick.”
“He really does seem nice,” Emmeline said.
“I can’t trust either of you.” I took a gulp of wine and set down my glass. “You may have found wonderful husbands for yourselves, but you’re on strike three with this girl. I can only take so many bad dates.”
“Please,” Felicity begged. “Please, just one dinner.”
Everyone joined in the pleading until I crumbled under their good intentions.
“Fine!” I threw my hands in the air.
The entire kitchen erupted with cheers. When I looked over at Gigi, her mouth was set in a grin. I couldn’t help but smile back. She was coming from a good place; all my friends were. They wanted me to find a love like they had found, and maybe Warren was my shot. At the very least, I’d get a free meal.
The men started filing in from outside with Jess bringing up the rear, holding a tray stacked full from the grill. “Dinner’s ready.”
Moms dispersed, chasing after kids to get hands washed and plates loaded. With Rowen in charge of the kids’ table in the living room, the adults crowded around the dining room table.
Dinner was followed by more laughing and more wine. By the time the sun had set, my cheeks hurt from smiling and I was drunk. Not so much that I was slurring or unbalanced, but the happy drunk where everything was funny, I was talking a mile a minute and driving myself home was definitely not an option.
As people started to shuffle out of the farmhouse, exhausted children in tow, I said good night to Coby. He was so excited to spend the night with Ben I was barely able to corral him for a kiss and hug good-bye.
Then Jess drove me home, waiting in his truck while I rushed up to the loft to pack an overnight bag for Coby. As he pulled away from the motel, I went to collect Pickle from his crate for his nighttime potty trip outside.
“Aww. Did you miss me, boy?” As I carried him down the stairs, he licked my chin like a typical overexcited puppy. “I missed you too. Here you go.” When I hit the bottom step, I set him down and clipped on the red leash that matched his collar.
At the base of the staircase that led to my loft was a small gravel area where I parked my black Toyota 4Runner. Behind the stairs was a narrow swath of grass that bordered the entire backside of the motel. Stepping off the gravel and onto the grass, I let Pickle pull me around by his leash, his black nose pressed to the ground as he searched for the perfect place to do his business.
“Come on, Pickle. Come.” I tugged on his leash after he’d peed. “Let’s get inside.”
We had already walked nearly the entire length of the motel and rather than turn and go back the way we came, I led Pickle along the grass so we could cut across the parking lot. The evening air was chilly and I hadn’t thought to bring out a coat. I was only wearing jeans, tan flats and an off-the-shoulder drapey white shirt that was too thin for more than five minutes outside.
I was just rounding the corner behind the building when a dark figure stepped right into my path, grabbing the sides of my arms as we collided. I gasped, too stunned and terrified to scream, so I reacted purely on instinct. Bringing my knee up as hard and as high as I could, I crushed it into the dark figure’s groin.
Direct hit.
The man let go of my arms as he doubled in half, holding his crotch while he groaned and fell backward onto the ground. “Oh, fuck,” he panted, trying to suck in a full breath.
Oh, fuck?
Oh, fuck.
I knew that voice and I knew that dimly lit man bun.
Reality dawned and my hand flew up to my mouth as I gasped. “Hunter?”
He didn’t respond. He just rolled over and faced the ground, rocking his body back and forth as sounds of pain and agony filled the air.
“Oh, no.” Fear turned to guilt. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I got scared and just reacted. My brother, he taught me some self-defense, and we’ve been practicing lately and I didn’t think. It just happened automatically. I thought you were a bad guy. Oh my god! I’m so sorry.”
My mouth would not stop moving. The words came pouring out faster than water over Niagara Falls.
